ature. In one word, its sum and substance is a power on the part of the
freed black to act pretty much as he pleases. Now, before we expend
oceans of enthusiasm on such a freedom, would it not be well to see
_how_ he would be pleased to act?

Dr. Channing has told us, we are aware, of the "indomitable love of
liberty," which had been infused into the breast of "fierce barbarians"
by their native wildernesses.[197] But we are no great admirers of a
liberty which knows no law except its own will, and seeks no end except
the gratification of passion.[198] Hence, we have no very great respect
for the liberty of fierce barbarians. It would make a hell on earth. "My
maxim," exclaims Dr. Channing, "is anything but slavery!" Even slavery,
we cry, before a freedom such as his!

This kind of freedom, it should be remembered, was born in France and
cradled in the revolution. May it never be forgotten that the "Friends
of the Blacks" at Boston had their exact prototypes in "_les Amis des
Noirs_" of Paris. Of this last society Robespierre was the ruling
spirit, and Brissot the orator. By the dark machinations of the
one,[199] and the fiery eloquence of the other, the French people--_la
grande nation_--were induced, in 1791, to proclaim the principle of
equality to and for the free blacks of St. Domingo. This beautiful
island, then the brightest and most precious jewel in the crown of
France, thus became the first of the West Indies in which the dreadful
experiment of a forced equality was tried. The authors of that
experiment were solemnly warned of the horrors into which it would
inevitably plunge both the whites and the blacks of the island. Yet,
firm and immovable as death, Robespierre sternly replied, then "Perish
the colonies rather than sacrifice one iota of our principles!"[200] The
magnificent colony of St. Domingo did not quite perish, it is true; but
yet, as every one, except the philanthropic "Ami des Noirs" of the
present day, still remembers with a thrill of horror, the entire white
population soon melted, like successive flakes of snow, in the furnace
of that freedom which a Robespierre had kindled.

The atrocities of this awful massacre have had, as the historian has
said,[201] no parallel in the annals of human crime. "The negroes," says
Alison, "marched with spiked infants on their spears instead of colors;
they sawed asunder the male prisoners, and violated the females on the
dead bodies of their husbands." The